


Rock in Rio '01

by orphan_account



Category: Bruce Dickinson - Fandom, Iron Maiden (Band), Janick Gers - Fandom, Music & Bands - Fandom
Genre: Male Slash, Rock Stars, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-20
Updated: 2018-06-20
Packaged: 2019-05-25 23:46:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14988152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Bruce's thoughts about Janick during the epic Rock in Rio performance in 2001





	Rock in Rio '01

**Author's Note:**

> Total fiction except for the description of the performance. I make no claims, real or implied, regarding any individual or band named herein

Rock in Rio 2001

 

Bruce's POV

 

Janick was on fire, as deep in the zone as he's ever been and I've seen him perform more times than I could count. The show was electrifying, everyone was on top of their game, but as the evening went on I only had eyes for Jan. He leaped, he twirled, he danced, sometimes so close to the edge of the stage I cringed, remembering Mannheim. It felt like we were twenty years old again but now it was even better, now we were on the same stage, now I could go over to him and touch him, put my arm around him, feel the energy running through him. At time he didn't seem to know I was there, he didn't seem to know any of us were there, even the crowd. He was off in that alternate plane, that parallel dimension he was swept off to when the music took him over. But when we danced during The Clansman, when I went to him as the song was ending and led him across the stage stumbling in his exhaustion, still caught up in the exhilaration, then I felt the familiar current between us, the current that's connected us for over half our lives, his positive to my negative, his light to my dark, and I knew what would happen after the show.

He was relatively quiet on the bus back to the hotel but his whole being was fairly humming with residual energy. I sat next to him and I could feel it and I knew it would be hours before he came back down to earth. It was already late but I knew from long experience he wouldn't be calm enough to relax until dawn at the earliest. We were all still feeling the adrenaline but it had always been different with Jan, more intense, running deeper and lasting longer and there wasn't a thing to be done about it but simply go with it. I admit I've taken advantage of it on many, many occasions over the years, though he was always more than willing to accommodate me. I like to think I was perhaps the only person on earth to know the true depths of Jan's nature, to have witnessed the boundless passion beneath the surface. And I counted myself as privileged indeed.

It was reasonably calm at the hotel, our people were good about ensuring that. Some rock bands thrived on wild parties and notoriety and in our early days we were perhaps as guilty as any, but unlike some, we outgrew that. We had limited meet and greets at the venue but once we were at the hotel we were left alone and it wasn't long before Jan and I were in his rooms with a supply of his favorite brand of ale. He needed a few drinks to relax somewhat, and a shower as well, but there was something else he needed, that we both needed, before any of that, almost before the door was closed and locked behind us. We needed each other, we needed each other like the most hardcore addict needs his drug. We were each other's addiction and we always have been. Through marriages and divorce, through children and separations, our hunger for one another was insatiable.

It was sex, yes. Mind blowing, intense sex, sometimes fierce in its nature, but it was more than that, it was deeper than the flesh. Our minds were as connected as our bodies, sometimes in the throes of the act I fancied that our very souls were connected. The concerts, the onstage performances, were like prolonged foreplay, I was forever conscious of my desire for him building as I watched him getting so lost in the notes he played. So very many times I couldn't stay away from him, I would find any excuse to touch him, often earning a scowl from Harry but he had long ago resigned himself to the knowledge that nothing could stop us, nothing could come between Jan and I. I sometimes suspected he was envious of our closeness, he had no one that close to him, and when I was in a particularly compassionate mood I tried to be more restrained when Steve was around. I would try, but then Jan would move a certain way, toss his long blonde hair, thrust his hips into his Strat, and I would forget about everything except how beautiful he is, how absolutely perfect.

Jan knows I love him, though I don't always say it or get sentimental with him. He knows me better than my wife or my children do, even better than I know myself at times. Even though I can get carried away and be rough with him, he knows I am only claiming him as mine and he feeds upon it, expending the excess energy from the show as we come together crying out, biting, scratching, his milk white skin showing bruises later that he won't even remember getting. I won't clearly remember giving them either, it would all be a blur of writhing limbs and the feel of his skin, the wiry muscles rippling as his legs tighten around my waist, the scent of his soft hair in my nostrils as I take him swiftly the first time. There was always a second time after a shower and a few beers, often a third time before we were satiated and he was able to drift off to sleep. When we were younger there were marathon all night sessions that would leave Jan walking gingerly the next day but it was still never enough. It never will be enough. He is irrevocably mine, my Janick, and I am his. Set in stone, two parts of a whole. Soulmates.


End file.
